


Good Talk? Good Talk.

by Pathologies



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (IDW Comics), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I like Leatherhead too much, I was thinking a lot of silent hill when writing this, so don't read if you haven't caught up to around the lh arc, spoilers for everything past issue 50
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8088892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pathologies/pseuds/Pathologies
Summary: The world can feel too big for even Donatello's mind and some people just make it more complicated...





	1. Chapter 1

One of the routine patrols, out on the edge of Foot territory. A simple twist of alleyways and slums. Not dangerous for the brothers to go out there, but sometimes gangs like to gather there, test their limits. But Donatello's not alone this time. Each of them had their communication radios (made by Don) attached to their belts. 

“I'm between the salon and the foreclosed apartment. I'll tell you if there's anything.”

Leo's voice rang back, “Be sure to check in a half hour.” Leo, out of anyone else seemed serious. But they all felt serious. He didn't blame if...if Mikey...

He was gone because they won, right?

The Shredder was dead, wasn't he? But yet...fight after fight have brought them with different kinds of enemies. Each of them had vied for the position the Foot had taken in the world. Indeed it left a mighty mark. Donatello knew the struggles of making difficult decisions...he knew the value of being pragmatic. He understood where you had to make compromise. Yet...each decision seemed to take a tol. On both the family and him.

He didn't resent Michelangelo for leaving...just sad. But Donatello, he understood these things. He understood the reasoning. Mikey was just naive...like with Leatherhead.

Donnie got the spark of anxiety thinking about that. They both trusted him...in a way. Who knew such a well-spoken mutant turned out to be a monster? No...he rationalized, not simply a monster. He was a thing that lashed out with blind retribution. That's what mistreatment does to people, he thought. 

He scaled up a fire escape of the empty complex. Inside it held nothing but dusty rooms, boarded doors. His foot hit the floor. Just stable enough. What made people leave these buildings? Maybe this whole war with them and Shredder affected more than their family and a few neighborhoods...

Donnie hit the door with enough pressure to break the boards, swinging it open. Just an empty stairwell, yawning down into the chasm below. Who would hide here? Phantoms? They're creepy but they're not that desperate. Maybe the Mutanimals...just because it's not the usual place doesn't mean any gangs couldn't hide in it he reasoned.

But in the dark, as he's climbing to the bottom with silence, he couldn't banish the thought of the alligator. He saved his life, why? To do a favor? Was it really all that opportunistic? Surely someone as smart as him would have found another way...maybe. Or maybe he was just that desperate. Though Donnie had suffered...he really couldn't figure what he'd do if he was in that situation. What he'd do if he was that low.

He hit the bottom. Oh. Water, enough to reach up to his knees. That solves the mystery of this complex, he guesses. The water looked like a slick oil burbling from the scant reflection above. Someone must have heard the noise. He looks at his radio. About fifteen minutes til check-in with Leo.

Donatello got out his flashlight, only using it sparingly. Nothing down this room. It looks like a place that once served morning breakfast, maybe a kitchen. Nothing in it now. He ventures down there. Away from the light above. 

He only had his flashlight to help him. Flicker of light, then darkness. His memory will fill in the rest to guide him. 

No sound from anything or anyone. Maybe this chase was getting pointless. Who was he going after? Just chasing ghosts, phantoms...he sighed to himself. He could take a break right now, resting against wall.

It wasn't a wall. A second of sensory deception told him he was leaning against a wall, but it was no wall. Something got him. Donatello panicked, flipping on the light. It was big, massive scaled...tail.

He reached for his bo staff and radio with two different hands. His bo hand was stopped by a strong grip. The radio had gone from his belt. 

“Do you think I would have given you a chance to retaliate?” that same heavy sonorous voice, “I'm not here for fights, Donatello.”

That didn't stop him from struggling, “Then why are you here?! To follow me!? To see where I'm hiding out so you can kill me later?!”

“No. But that's excellent strategy. You're more ingenious than you credit yourself.”

“You know, the compliments don't really help when you got me in a vise.”

“Ah yes. Apologies,” He let Donatello loose, moving backwards. Donnie could see the radio in his hand, “It's a force of habit...it's what I was conditioned for, you may say.”

“What is this about Leatherhead?!” he sounded exasperated already, “Nothing you've done has shown that I should listen to you.”

“No, you're right.” he paused, taking a seat in the water. His orange uniform was still there, along with the metal belt, a reminder of Krang's ownership, “You have thirteen minutes before you must report to your brother....otherwise he and Raphael and whomever come to face me. That way brings risks for both of us. I want to use this limited window of time to talk.”

Donnie hardly believed it, “Talk!? You try to bring an entire species to extinction...kill an AI and may I remind you he has actual feelings! And murder me and my brothers and after all that...you just want to talk?!”

“Yes.”

Donnie was struck by the simplicity of the answer, he had to take a moment to lean against an actual wall. “Okay...eleven minutes now...what do you want to talk about?”

“Why you let me through the portal.”

“That's easy,” Donnie sighed, “You didn't give me a choice. I opened it because I wanted to save my brother Mikey.”

“You could have sabotaged it and left me there to die. You decided to bring me here.”

“Also simple: because I'm not a killer.” there's venom in those words killer.

But Leatherhead smiled, “And I'm a murderer. So you wanted to be better than me. You wanted to be better than me...but you let those Utroms live. It's to prove a point to yourself, to prove your moral superiority.”

“No.” harder, with more venom.

“Then you must be so coddled that you value all life. No matter how destructive to others it actually is.”

He thought of Splinter beheading the Shredder. How he stood by and watched, how he stood by his own decision, “I know when to save lives and when you....you just need to step back. I know how complicated it is.”

“To you...I'm complex. Let me ask again: why did you let me come here?”

It's like he's getting drilled to the bone. He swallowed, holding his own fingers in a ball, “I don't know, maybe because you saved my life! Maybe because like you said, I owed you. Maybe because someone could help you fix all the trauma you went through!”

Leatherhead rumbled, making the water around him tremble, “Are you the one to cure my trauma?”

“Someone...not me.” he looked up, “Why did you save me? And seven minutes, by the way..”

Leatherhead mused. Why? “I think the answer is clear enough. We are alike. We're the results of alien involvement with fauna. We are both the same taxonomy: evolutionary rejects, with no biological space for us. Worse than alien, mutant. Even our planet is alien to us.””

Donatello looked down. He didn't think it in those words, but what Leatherhead said in some way was true. “So is this you trying to become friends?”

“We don't have to be friends. It can be just...ecological dependence. Animals depend on each other for survival all the time. Birds can lead predators like wolves to their prey.”

“Am I the bird then?” Donatello rose, “It doesn't change anything, Leatherhead. There's a difference between making hard decisions and just hanging on to revenge.” He made his way out, “I'm going.”

“There's no such thing as being pragmatic when you're stripped of everything,” he growled, “When you've lived through centuries of neglect and abuse....morals just fade. I thought reasoning may get you to see it that way...but fail once, try again.” He rose, towering over the turtle, “Our time's not over.”

“I'm sorry,” Donatello leaped into the air, his bo staff smacking him between the eyes as he nabbed the radio, “But after what I've done, I don't owe anymore favors!”

The turtle ran. That alligator was coming after him and he knew it. Heavy footsteps pounding into the ground, creating splashes far enough for him to feel on his shell. No use in going up the straight and narrow path. He merely hopped from one banister of a floor to another. No looking back. Not once. No need to look back with someone like Leatherhead, you know when you're gone. As he launches himself from between the staircase to flip upwards he can see the large shadow rampaging for a moment before quiet. It just registered to his conscious mind how loud it was before. Flight or flight really gets to working for a turtle like him. He saw the tired, resigned face in the alligator below him. Like he had expected something else for once. In that instant Donnie smashed the light bulb, making all black. 

He could still hear that heavy breathing. That's what can be so terrifying about a mutant like Leatherhead. How he can go between intelligent and diplomatic to raging beast with a switch. The worst thing about it? Donnie wasn't sure if even Leatherhead knew when it flips on and off. 

He's just quiet in the dark, feeling his way around till he feels the familiar blast of air and makes his way to freedom, toward the roof. There came a brief moment where he swore he heard a snort from the complex behind him as he crawled away...he hesitated. But no Leatherhead.

On the roof he dropped to a squat, getting to his radio.

“Donnie? Donnie?! We're coming after you!” It had been a few minutes past the check-in time.

Donnie responded, “Sorry Leo, I'm here. I...I guess there's still some kinks to work out of these...”


	2. A Clarice-Hannibal Thing

It wasn't new intel that New York had plenty of derelict warehouses, abandoned fisheries by the Manhattan harbor. Many knew the homeless liked to make their home in those areas. But lately they began to stay clear of one factory, leaving only rumors of something sinister living there. Police and passerby dismissed it, but the turtles knew there could be some truth to it. New York's underbelly continued to grow the past few years, like a sinister infection beneath the skin. Monsters and gods walked almost as common as pigeons. 

How could Donatello not investigate? He wouldn't go alone, not after the last incident with Leatherhead. While Leonardo and Raphael would be a good asset, he'd doubt their take charge type-A style wouldn't interfere with the investigation part. Michelangelo was juvenile at times, but he knew when to step back. 

That's why he brought the younger turtle along, restraining his stern glances to a minimum.

“I hope the mutant is another one like Slash.”

“Mikey.” he glared, walking past shipping containers, “Let's not make any assumptions. It could be nothing. I'd rather it be nothing. Either way, let's try keeping it down.”

“Weird. It's not like you to follow hunches.” Mikey frowned, his remorseful expression appearing as though he wanted to swallow his words.

But Mikey hit the point in his odd way. He didn't usually follow hunches. “I don't know...” he soundlessly climbed over a crate to the side fire escape of the fishery, “Maybe with all the business with father and the Foot, following a hunch is better than thinking on it...”

“I know what you mean...” Mikey's irises drifted down, sullen, “Feels like forever since we started living on our own.”

Ever since they did, they had a strange absence of their father in their lives. It felt so normal, but yet... “Let's keep it down on the chance there's someone in here okay?”

“But--” Mikey opened his arms, trying to reach out.

“Shhh.”

Michelangelo dropped his arms, opting to follow into the side door atop the fire escape. In the dark there came only a soft amber glow from the lower floor. In the middle of that glow Donatello could make out the faint outline of piles: piles and piles of books, canisters, even garbage. This was no human hoarder that was for sure...

Mikey made a silent waiting to go signal to Donnie. The turtle told him to hold off as he crouched in the inky blackness. Donnie made a leap over the railing onto the second floor, landing quietly.

He raised his arm to make a signal to Mikey when--

“Ah Donatello.”

His heart froze over. He knew that deep, rumbling voice again, the same voice that tumbled out so syrupy slow yet retained a guttural undertone. “How amusing we run into each other so often.”

“Leatherhead...” he held his staff at the ready, giving a head shake towards the darkness that held Mikey, “It's not like you to make a big scene. Plenty of people seen you.”

“Yes...” his scales lit up almost as bright as his eyes, a glowing armored form in the amber haze, “People have, the human detritus that have been shoved aside by this environment for one reason or another.”

In the light he could see his shackled belt had been abandoned and upgraded to a rawhide vest with the soft stitching. He took a lounging seat on a readymade throne of books and magazines. He scratched his throat, “No matter how much I try, it seems there's no reaching out to them. It appears I'll always be a stranger.”

“If you're looking to get revenge on us, Leatherhead, I'd rather you did it sooner than wait forever.”

Donatello's heart sank when he heard his brother's voice behind him, “Hey if you do anything to him, you got a six-finger army at your back!”

The alligator mutant, rather than grow viciously defensive cracked a guffaw, “Is that so? You won't have to worry about anything other than be chaperone in our liason.”

“...that kind of sounds worse.”

The technical terrapin shook his head as he kept his bo staff at the ready, “Liason? Do you think I'll buy that you intentionally drew me here?”

“No,” he collected a couple paperbacks, “It was an eventuality.”

The alligator was confusing. Twice now he spared him before. Would he continue to spare him? For what purpose? “The playing with my head thing isn't going to work twice.”

“Yeah, this is pretty much a Clarice-Hannibal situation,” a voice rang out.

Leatherhead pulled a bemused face, “Come again?”

“Don't listen to him. He watches too much garbage.”

Leatherhead sighed, “Ah, but I've been doing some reading too. You know what my favorite novels are?” He held aloft the paperbacks in hand, “Frankenstein or a Modern Prometheus and the Stranger.”

“Is this going to be a book report?”

“Mikey.” Donnie groaned, “So you've been reading. What does this have to do with me?”

“It's the protagonists of the stories, Merusault and the Monster. You're familiar with them, yes?”

“...the second one, yeah.” He didn't think anyone who wasn't familiar with Frankenstein.

Leatherhead got comfortable, “Merusault is a human who finds himself in a different land, far from his home. Not only that he's a stranger in a different way: he doesn't feel the way the other humans around him feel...do you understand?”

“No, no one read your weird book.”

Donatello nodded slowly. He could see Leatherhead's point: a stranger who doesn't feel what anyone else feels. “You mean to say you're special.”

“A narcissistic way to say it. I never chose to be this way, but like Camus said 'after awhile you could get used to anything'.”

The turtle frowned, furrowing his brow. He wanted something and he only wanted to tell in cryptic ways, “And Frankenstein?”

Leatherhead finally rose, lumbering in a posture Donatello could read as frighteningly submissive. “The monster in the end tries bargaining his creator for companionship, but Frankenstein denies him this. In the end, both of them trail each other alone in the bitter cold, seeking an end to their lives.”

“This is just creepy, Don...” Michelangelo didn't sound so annoyed.

It was odd, but Leatherhead just delivered himself on all fours before him and still Donatello couldn't read the real intention into it. Maybe the years of Krang torture eroded any ability to show genuine feeling outside showing his skill and intellect. An oddly fascinating beast, Leatherhead...

“You're a lot like the monster, I admit,” Donnie breathed.

“Neither of us chose to be created. Reading it...I realized when I was mutated it was like dying and being born as something else a second time. Just like the monster. Maybe you never felt that, dying and being born.”

Donatello grit his teeth, the words stinging whether or not Leatherhead knew the potency of his poison. Michelangelo wordlessly came down, his weapons at the ready. Donatello held him back, “Like the monster, you never learned anything. The monster decided he would have it his way or no one else could have anything. And that's why he had nothing.”

“Donnie what are you doing...” Mikey whispered.

Leatherhead rose his head, his eyes unreadable for a moment. But in a strange instant he could see it warp to something dare he say...pitiable in those eyes.

“I'm not sure why I am this way, but...I only keep hoping I can reach out to you. And we can reach a mutual understanding. That you can see it my way.”

Donatello now felt a surge of frustration, confusion, and fear rising in him like unstoppable acid reflux. His concern for the hulking violent mutant had gone a long time ago, “You think threatening my family and tormenting me would help with that!? I'm sorry, but no. If you want any respect from anyone...maybe you should learn how to..to...”

“Not be a violent creep?”

“Yeah!”

Leatherhead rose, his height already looming over them. But rather than anger or sadness like expected, the turtles only saw acceptance. Donatello jolted as his chest met with a paperback shoved into it: a copy of 'The Stranger'. 

“Read it, Donatello. That is what I'll ask of you.” the alligator mutant walked towards his horde pile as he searched through it, “As Camus said...”

He produced a match, “'It is better to burn than to disappear'.”

With the age of the material before him the area went up in a flash, creating a wall of fire between the both of them. Donatello felt a horrible shock, first as he wasn't sure they would escape alive and second because of the blasé action behind something so self-destructive.

Michelangelo tugged him along, pulling him toward the garage, “Come on!”

“But...” he almost said 'Leatherhead', but he wasn't sure if Mikey or even Leatherhead himself wanted saving. He wasn't thinking clearly. The flash fire had already gotten a good chunk of smoke into his throat. Mikey was right, they needed to go.

By the time they escaped through the fishery's main entrance (the fire escape blocked), both coughed out and welcomed the new air.

“I can't believe I ever trusted him,” Mikey thought bitterly.

Donatello rose, patting the terrapin's shell, “You're not the only head he's messed with.”'

“You mean...?”

He nodded, “I met him a while back. He tried mind games with me back then too. I guess I haven't learned much.”

“We're alive, that counts right?”

“....you know, I knew it was a good choice bringing you. Now if you were better about using my gadgets!”

“Yeah...” he spied the copy of the Stranger under Donnie's armpit, “...are you really gonna keep that?”

He thumbed it, embarrassed, “If Leatherhead wanted to leave anything for me, it'll be in here.”

Mikey kept a faster pace ahead of him, “Clarice-Hannibal thing, dude.”

“Would you cut that out?” he began to read the first page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'The Stranger' is written by Albert Camus and 'Frankenstein' by Mary Shelly (everyone knows that but this is a formality)

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series between IDW LH and Donatello. Honestly I'm waiting for more to come out with Leatherhead...he's such an interesting character in the comics, just how extreme he's willing to go (he actually reminds me of Kaneki haha if you get that feel you're just as bad as me.).


End file.
